Life and Death
by Envy - The Covetous One
Summary: Reaper, the enigmatic assassin of Talon, finds his twisted body is dying from a decaying condition. With little choice in the matter, he is forced to seek out the one who made him like this in the first place: Dr. Angela Ziegler, or 'Mercy', as she is known by her coworkers and friends at Overwatch. Mercy is hesitant to help him, but finding pity and hope in her heart, she does so.
1. Chapter 1: The Attack

Gabriel Reyes was dead. For many years now, he had been dead. Now, only a demented specter remained of who and what he once was. And that restless spirit went by one name alone. One name that had spent many years branding itself into the fearing minds of any who tried to keep what little, fragile peace there was in the world intact.

Reaper.

And Reaper was a busy creature these days, which served as the only reason as to why he was currently standing on the outskirts of a poor village on the end of Africa's southeastern coast, under a baking hot sun. He received a mission from his employers, the terrorist organization designated as Talon, less than a day before, and they dropped him off at the edge of the place soon after he accepted it. It had been a scant two weeks after his botched mission in Gibralter concerning the discovery of the whereabouts of more, retired Overwatch operatives, and he truly wanted to improve his image after what had happened. His target in the debriefing was listed as such:

 **Name: Tekhartha Zenyatta**

 **Age: Twenty**

 **Race/Ethnicity: Omnic, Monk**

 **Mission: _Terminate_**

Reaper took great delight in the fact that he was the one to receive this mission. He still remembered the days of the omnic crisis, and how much trouble the titular machines put everyone through, him included. Any chance he had to end one's miserable existence he reveled in cruelly, and lucky for him, this one was a particularly important and well-known individual throughout the world. People would always talk about how 'Zenyatta', as the monk-themed bot chose to name itself, would travel the world in nomadic fashion, teaching anyone who dared to listen of his words and the lessons they taught in the hopes of bringing the world one step closer to peace.

And that's why he now stood here, in front of a crudely-built hut. He received information from Talon telling him that this little shanty sitting off of the edge of a cliff and facing the ocean was where Zenyatta was making his residence for the short time he was going to stay in this relatively small village. Currently, the omnic was gone; most likely in the village healing the sick and spouting the nonsense of his supposed wisdom.

Reaper, already plotting how he would ambush the humble guru, easily pushed the door open with a loud creak of aged wood. Walking inside with very little emotion in his strut, he closed the door behind himself and took a look around. Unimpressed with how it appeared, he began forward.

Then it happened. As he took no more than four steps into the house, Reaper nearly keeled over as a fuzzy, numb feeling overtook him, followed by a wave of extreme pain that washed all over his body; stronger than the torturing torment he normally endured in every second of his life. His breathing turned into choked and desperate gasps for air as he felt his withered lungs begin to fail him, and every joint and muscle that surrounded his dark visage seemed to feel as though they were bathing in searing flame. Faltering to one knee, he placed one clawed hand on the wooden ground of the abode and tried in vain to recover from what was happening to him, until he noticed something.

A black mist was starting ooze from his concealed hand, slowly stripping its physical form away. When he turned his stiffened neck with a wretched groan, he noticed that it seemed to be happening elsewhere as well. From his arm, his shoulder, his chest, his legs... everywhere he could see, his body was rotting in such a manner.

A scant few moments later, the mist suddenly stopped, and his body regenerated and became whole again. The extreme pain vanished, and strength returned in its fullest. It was as though it hadn't even happened when his breathing returned to normal.

This was the fourth time in the last six days alone that Reaper experienced this burst of excruciating agony and weakness, and it was only now beginning to worry him. Never before had he been through this kind of occurrence, and the fact that it was happening now - and becoming much more frequent as it went on - left him utterly befuddled.

 _Something's wrong with me..._ he thought to himself in a mumbling growl. Clenching his fist so hard a wicked crackling noise went out in its knuckles, he lifted it from the ground, and rose back to his legs. _But there's still a job to do. When the tin can shows up, he'll be in for a treat..._

Without time to spare, Reaper walked off to find a place to hide and wait within this old house.

* * *

Zenyatta was silent throughout most of the evening when he returned to his home for the time being. No sooner had he arrived, he began planting lit candles all about through the place, and from them a fragrant incense soon filled the entire house with a strong, waxy scent that staved off the salty smell of the sea. Walking to where he estimated was the exact center of the complex, he sat down on the ground, crossed his legs, and began to meditate.

He meditated there for some time, all of his thoughts turning to the near future and far past. To order and chaos. To nothing and everything. He was so in tune with himself and his surroundings that his frail, metal body began to levitate above the ground, seemingly on its own.

There was a still peace here, and yet, as his meditation reached its apex, the omnic felt as though something was not quite right within his household. Breaking from his deep contemplation, he started to move around the candlelight-illuminated living area, still levitating all the while. He eventually passed by the door to an unused closet.

Yes, he clearly felt a presence of some kind coming from within the old, unused room. A presence that made him feel deeply unsettled. Zenyatta reached for the rusted handle, when it was violently kicked open from the other side, revealing a tall, grim figure.

"Surprise," Reaper bluntly greeted, pointing the barrel-ends of his two hellfire shotguns at Zenyatta's smaller form. A deafening gunshot echoed out of the first one as it fired at its intended victim, but by the time the minuscule bullets left the barrel, the omnic had crossed his arms together, summoning his orbiting spheres to protect him. All of the scattering bullets grazed, deflected and bounced off of the metal balls, sending them careening against the walls and floor of the building instead.

Not worrying, Reaper fired his other weapon in rhythmic succession, but Zenyatta had already floated away at a swift speed just to the right by then, avoiding the attack. Jumping back and sending his palm forward, a blast of destructive blue energy sped forth from one of his orbs, hitting Reaper in the shoulder and throwing his aim off. Without pause, he did it once more and three times after, attempting to pelt the would-be assassin with a hail of his learned power, despite him firing back relentlessly, decimating the candle-covered room.

Reaper's guns soon ran dry, and instead of taking the heat from the multiple blue streaks heading his way, the wraith jumped behind a nearby corner and pressed his back against it as he tossed both of his empty guns away, reaching into his vest and ripping out another pair of the same weapons. Turning his skull-like, masked face to the corner's edge, he prepared his next assault on his target.

"Are you prepared to die, omnic?" he cackled malevolently from where he hid.

"Death is but one of many doors we all eventually pass through in life," Zenyatta responded calmly, refocusing and recollecting the power used to fuel his orbs of destruction with a clap of his metallic hands. "Even should I fall now, my teachings will live on through my many students, as with their own students. And that factor will never change."

"Then in that case, I shall gladly oblige you," Reaper replied in a blatantly faux-polite tone. He suddenly threw himself from behind the corner and charged directly at the omnic, shifting into his ethereal wraith form in the process. Reaper's entire, immaterial body seemed to float above the ground like a phantasmal bird of prey as he flew forward, arms outstretched, and the once dark-filled spaced in his mask's eye sockets blazed red like fiery embers from the deepest depths of hell itself.

But Zenyatta did not fear, nor did he despair. Seeing through his enemy's unassailable trick, he simply prepared another attack. " _There is disquiet in your soul,_ " he called out as a lightning-fast, purple sphere impacted against Reaper's translucent, dark form the moment it took physical shape once again. As the orb of discord struck him, it attached to him like a tick through a chord of sizzling energy, and he felt a great, mind-distorting weakness come over him. A weakness that he knew would hinder him.

"Damn," he muttered, pointing his shotguns ahead of himself. He launched another volley of shots at Zenyatta as he passed by, dashing to the other end of the house, where he kicked up a small table with the end of his boot and sprung behind it. Some of the bullets in the spray nicked the machine monk on his right shoulder, causing him to let out a small cry of pain as he attempted to fight back.

Out of the omnic's line of sight, Reaper let out a breath of relief as he sensed the purple orb disconnect from him and return to its master. Unhappy with the amount of bullets loaded in his shotguns currently, he dropped them like sticks to the ground in the manner akin to what he did with the last pair, and sorted through his coat once again for another set.

With them in hand, he planted his foot firmly on the tip of the upturned table and jumped from it. As soon as he landed on the ground, he started to break into a sprint, and was moments away from ending Zenyatta's life. He raised his weapons just before Zenyatta could lift his hands. The end drew near, and Reaper could practically feel the smile of victory that was about to come over his face.

That is, until a pulse of pure agony streaked through his body like a jolt of lightning, causing him to trip in surprise at how sudden and out-of-nowhere it was. Dropping his guns in anguish and shock, they fell with a clatter to the ground, and Reaper clutched his chest with a shaky hand, desperately trying to force his head up as he dropped to his knee.

 _No... not now!_ he shrieked in his mind as it was overcome by the crippling torment. As he stumbled forward, black liquid and mist dripping through the holes of his mask and openings of his coat, Zenyatta saw his chance and acted upon it. Crossing his arms and rallying all the focus of his mind into a single purpose, a cluster of orbs began to glow over and around his head, forming five individual balls of light. As the final one took form, he unleashed all of his pent-up power at Reaper with a defiant shout, and all the ailing specter could do was raise a claw-like hand and brace himself as best he could.

Then the barrage struck. Every single one hit Reaper at their full force, sending him flying across what little of the room was left to soar past, until his prone body reached a window. Like a stone, he was thrown through it with a shattering of glass, and off of the cliff that the house sat near. His dark, ragged shape fell into the even-darker water lying far below, and the moment he landed with a splash into it, he was swept up by a large wave and the current it drifted on.

Calmly exhaling, Zenyatta peered over the edge of the shattered window, and saw nothing that would pose any more of a threat to him. Lifting his head from the view, the omnic turned about and silently went off to tend and repair his minor wounds.


	2. Chapter 2: An Honored Guest

The Swiss doctor, Angela Ziegler - better known by the heroic moniker of 'Mercy' - awoke with a start as she pulled her face up from her desk. After exhaling a loud yawn, she sluggishly looked to the small digital clock sitting at the edge of the desk through half-open eyes.

 _Ten-o-five? Darn it all..._ she thought bitterly upon seeing the time, grumpy with herself for sleeping in for so long. _Well, better late than never..._

She had fallen asleep sometime in the night as she worked. Mercy let out a tired groan as she stretched her thin arms out, remembering how she had spent the entire day previously moving, setting up, and adjusting her medical equipment into her old lab here at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Rubbing a gloved hand through her fine, but currently tangled and messy platinum-blonde hair, she stood up from her seat with a squeak of the chair's legs as it was pushed back over the smooth, metal, steel-tinted ground.

Yawning again, she checked around her lab to make sure all was well before marching over to the nearby washroom, and after taking out another set of equipment and disrobing from the ones she wore from the day before, stepped into the shower. Under a rain of hot water from the nozzle above, she cleaned herself off thoroughly, and upon exiting and drying off with a nearby towel, began to put on her medical gear.

Her Valkyrie suit, the protective outfit she wore in both battle and when simply performing her medical duty, began to give her a rather angelic visage as she put some of the last parts of the mostly white, gold-outlined body armor on.

Brushing her hair until her light-tinted locks were neat once again, and then tying some hanging from the back into a ponytail, Mercy stared into the mirror and made sure that she was presentable enough to be around her friends and teammates. Lastly setting her golden, halo-esque headpiece over her head, she looked at herself and stretched the wing-like devices set over her back with a grin.

"Ah. Vonderful," she said to herself, before turning about and walking back to her room. After checking over some of her devices, she decided to head to the watchpoint's mess hall to get herself something to eat, before her gnawing stomach became too much of a nuisance to impede all the busy work she had planned out for the day.

* * *

"...But he is in good condition, right?" Genji Shimada asked the armored, scientist gorilla, Winston, in a deeply concerned voice. Worry was evidently all about him, as was seen by how he was tightly gripping the hilt of his smaller of the two swords he possessed, still in its sheath on the lower portion of his back.

"Yes. Soldier: 76 reported that Zenyatta managed to fend off Reaper's advance, and successfully repelled him on his own," Winston replied as the two walked along the outside of Watchpoint: Gibraltar's main facility, fixing the rectangular-lensed glasses he wore over his nose with one of his hands. "He will be arriving here with him within the next three hours. Sorry if I startled you."

The cyborg ninja let out a sigh of relief upon hearing the words. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Winston. It lifts a great burden from my chest to hear that he has recovered from the threat. He is a good friend of mine, you know."

"And a mentor to you too. Or... so I've heard," Winston shrugged speculatively. "I'm extremely excited to meet his acquaintance at long last."

"And I cannot wait to see him once again as well," Genji chuckled back, as they rounded a corner that lead to one of the base's silos. As soon as they passed it, the two came upon the sight of Mercy as she was walking in the direction they were leaving from. Taking notice of them the second she caught their individual shapes out of the corner of her blue eyes, she stopped, lifted her head, and allowed a smile to come over her face.

"Oh! Good morning Winston. And greetings to you Genji," the healer spoke with a small, respectful bow to her old friend. "It's been far too long since we last met. When did you get here, if you don't mind me asking?"

Genji grinned back behind his green, face-concealing visor, fond memories of working with her in the past returning to him. "Just this morning, Dr. Ziegler. I've been talking with Winston about a rather... 'thrilling' bit of news he collected recently," he responded, after bowing back.

Mercy switched a curious glance toward the large ape. "Just how thrilling?" she asked him, a curled brow adorning her face.

"Well, I received a report from Soldier: 76 that Zenyatta, the famous wandering guru as you may know him, was attacked by a Talon agent two nights ago," Winston began. "He is being escorted here by him as we speak."

"That agent happened to be none other than Reaper, to be precise," Genji finished for him, gaining a shocked look from Mercy. "According to what 76 told us, anyway."

"Talon sent Reaper to kill him?" she asked. "Is he alright?"

"Only some minor wounds that he has healed on his own," Winston confirmed.

"In that case, it appears we have dodged a bullet," she said gladly, before both Genji and herself noticed Winston walking off to attend to other matters, leaving the two be. Placing her hands together, she looked back at Genji. "Listen, I've only just woken up, and I haven't had anything to eat yet. Have you?"

"No, all I've been doing is traveling here since I received the recall Winston initiated, which appears to have been much later than most everyone else," he answered.

"Shall ve go and get some breakfast together, then?" she asked back. "I kind of... overworked myself yesterday, so I haven't really had time to talk to anyone about things, but this seems like a charitable opportunity."

"Of course I can," the cybernetically-enhanced ninja quickly, and willingly agreed.

* * *

"I cannot express enough thanks to you all for accepting me here today," Zenyatta said again, entering the main hall of the unretired Overwatch base right behind Soldier: 76, the latter of whom marched in with his pulse rifle hoisted over his shoulder, acknowledging everyone with a silent nod of his head. Zenyatta continued; "But do not worry about my personal care. I plan to stay only as long as needed, and depart once my use is done."

"You may stay here as long as you _wish_ , my old master," Genji spoke insistently, stepping up to him. "Before I arrived here myself, I requested to the others that you be brought here in the first place, after all."

"That was a wise bit of foresight, my old pupil," the omnic complimented, before casting his gaze toward the several other, present Overwatch agents that had so far answered the recall. At the end of the line of them, Mercy stood with a respectful look aimed toward Zenyatta.

As she peered to her left to see how the others were reacting to his presence, she saw Torbjörn's diminutive form first, and on his bearded face, the Swedish engineer wore a fairly stern and uncomfortable expression. "I'm not sure I like this all that much," he grunted quietly once he realized that she was staring his way, folding both his whole arm, and the advanced mechanical prosthetic that made up his other limb together over his burly chest. "We rarely ever had omnic visitors when we were first commissioned here way back when, and now look. The whole team's not even here yet, and we have one strutting in like it owns the place."

"Oh, shush you," she said back to him in a scolding tone. "He's an honored guest, Torbjörn. And besides, you should get over your dislike for omnics in this day and age."

"I'll get over it when I'm _dead_ ," he huffed defiantly, before turning around and walking off as the small crowd began to disperse as he did. "I'll be in my workshop if anyone needs me..."

Mercy shook her head dejectedly at his disapproval, before looking back to the omnic. As Zenyatta finished a small discussion with Genji, the young and energetic Lena Oxton, better known as Tracer, was the first to approach him. "Wow," she started, putting her hand out in a friendly manner to the guru, and shaking his metal servo quickly once he returned the gesture. "It's an honor to meet a member of the Shambali. Tekhartha Mondatta was an inspiration to me, Zenyatta."

Zenyatta sighed sadly at her words, knowing just how recent his fellow monk had fallen, which to say was less than half-a-month ago, and coincidentally less than a few hours after Winston allowed the callback of Overwatch. "He was an inspiration to us all. I miss him greatly," he spoke back to her, before the tone of his pitch lightened a small bit. "I received word that you attempted to thwart his assassination, Miss Oxton. You have my honest thanks for trying to save him."

Tracer smiled very weakly and turned away briefly before looking back at him. "Hearing that from you is a treasure, sir," she said with sincerity. "They've already started to construct a statue in his honor at King's Row, you know. Unless something interrupts its progress, it'll be finished real soon." Smirking again once she finished, but allowing it to be wider and more joyful than the one previously, Tracer saluted the guru before walking off.

"Shall I show you around the base?" Genji offered, upon seeing that the two's conversation had ended. "I may not have been here in years, but I still know my way around as good as I did in the past."

"I would be delighted," Zenyatta agreed. Mercy couldn't help but put on a positive expression when she saw the master and former student leave together like the pair of grand old friends she knew they were. But after they were gone, seeing that there was nothing else left to do here, she slipped away as well. After all, her lab still needed her attention...

* * *

The night was getting late for Mercy as she continued to finish the last of her adjustments to her lab. As the time raced by and she went on fiddling around with her medically-inclined contraptions - when not actively looking over her research into hypothetical diseases and injuries, as well as their cures - she could swear she heard the sound of something bumping around through the air vents connected to the ceiling above. Quickly dismissing the noise as being nothing more than either her weary mind playing tricks on her ears, or the watchpoint's ventilation system acting on its own, she went on with her work without pause, and the sound soon subsided on its own.

As she finished her last review over her lab's functionality, deeming it successful and ready for action, she was finally able to focus her attention onto her Caduceus staff, whereupon she looked it over to make sure its abilities were up to date. No sooner had she laid her eyes upon it, her thoughts traveled back to when she last used the device in service of Overwatch. Before it fell to corruption and internal struggles. Before it was shut down.

Sure, she disliked the old organization in some aspects, most of her reasons stemming from the fact that a few of the higher-ups and officials chose to weaponize some of her devices that were once solely meant to heal and repair, but there were just as many, if not more fond memories as well. The friends she made of her fellow agents were ones she would forever treasure and love, and Overwatch itself gave her the ability to help the needs of others on a much grander scale than what she had before joining up, for starters. All the lives she managed to save from both natural, and battle-induced disasters was something she would never forget. With the reformation of Overwatch, in spite of most of the public's negative opinion on them all, Mercy hoped with all of her heart that she would get that chance again.

Mercy was so caught up in her memories, that she didn't realize a black mist had begun to seep through the cracks of a vent's grate not so far behind her. It was only as an instinctual feeling of being watched crossed her mind did a noticeable chill run down her spine. The room felt as though it had suddenly gotten colder, and once an audible, withered cough went out from behind her, did she turn around. Her eyes widened in fear and surprise at what sight befell her, and in her haste to leave her seat she almost stumbled to the ground.

It was Reaper. His ragged breathing seemed to give off a rather queer mien, and his dark, hooded form was slightly hunched over with one hand held at his chest and the other drooping by his side, but it was him - that was unmistakable. The man who was known and feared across the world for his terrorist activities and passion for hunting down former Overwatch agents, and he was standing right in front of Mercy, like death itself had come for her.

Without delay, she reached for the Caduceus blaster she had holstered by her side, and pointed it at the shadowy figure in an almost hesitant fashion. Reaper didn't seem to react to her action whatsoever, and only remained where he was, still wheezing and gasping uncontrollably, occasionally shifting glances at the ground. Only then did Mercy see a thick fluid substance that appeared to drip out of almost every orifice on his person, including his mask. It felt like an hour passed by the two as their stare-off commenced, and only after Mercy realized that he wasn't attempting to do anything offensive, did she lower her sidearm; albeit at a cautious snail's pace.

"Gott im Himmel... R- _Reaper?_ " she finally stuttered, growing the nerve to slowly approach the tormented wraith as he continued to strain for air, staining the ground with the blood-like ichor with every tortured hack he made. "What... happened to you?"

Reaper staggered forward a short ways, his glaring mask shooting from the ground the instant he felt a warm, delicate hand touch his shoulder. "You tell me, Doc..." he rasped back to her in his impossibly gravelly voice.


	3. Chapter 3: Old Acquaintances

"What are you doing here?" Mercy spoke, stepping back from Reaper to her desk as she realized just how close she had gotten to him; her common sense screaming to her that this was an act set to lure her in and lower her defenses. Reaper took in several more strained breaths before responding.

"Because I need your help," he weakly said.

"What?" she asked, raising her blaster again. "Why on earth would I help _you?_ " To this, Reaper lowered his head and thought for a moment.

"Please..." he said, though his words sounded more begrudging than dire. "Something's wrong with me... I can feel myself rotting away. Withering into ash. It's been gradually getting worse until it's become so bad that it won't even go away now..."

"But _why_ should I help you?" With one hand still on her blaster, the Swiss doctor placed the other on the com sitting at her desk, preparing to press a finger down on the red button; ready to alert the whole watchpoint of who was standing before her. "You're a fiend. You've hunted down my friends - my _family_ \- for nothing more than sick sport! You've killed them in cold blood, and left nothing but terror and death in your wake!"

Reaper was silent at her tirade of just a few of the many vile things he had done came out of her mouth. That silence didn't last long though, as a hideous, guttural chuckle reverberated from the deepest, darkest recesses of the killer's throat. "Because, _Angela_ , you _owe me_."

Her brow lifted in vexation, but her hand held firm. "What?"

"You heard what I said," he replied. "You owe me. And what you owe me is my entire, miserable existence."

Mercy didn't understand, and seeing that she still seemed lost, Reaper went on with a sigh. "Don't you remember? It was exactly five years back... there were a pair of soldiers that had a little fight at a base in Switzerland that ended in an explosion. You were on the scene, conveniently enough with a prototype resurrection device of your own making. And, after all, what better way to test such a machine than in a situation such as that?"

Mercy's lip quivered the second the memory came to her in its full, horrid glory. It was here that she wanted to tell him to stop his explanation, but she failed to find the words in her shocked state, and still he went on. "You activated it over the body of your fallen comrade, now nothing more than a smear of red paint and mangled limbs sitting below a mound of burned rubble. And it worked. Not in the way you, or I, or anyone would have wanted, but it _worked_."

The com forgotten, Angela stumbled back until she fell into her chair's seat; her blaster falling from her grasp and clattering to the floor below. Reaper saw her stunned expression, and finding much amusement in it, slowly stepped closer to her.

"Looking like something that had been thrown into a microwave set to broil, he ran off, screaming in agony as his body began to rapidly deteriorate and rebuild itself from the cellular level in a repeating fashion, and that was the last you ever saw of him. Ring any bells, Doc?"

The bell had been rung. Mercy was in pure disbelief over who it truly was standing in front of her, and while she had her vague suspicions about who this enigmatic murderer was all these years, they were all realized in that moment. In a constrained voice trembling with horror, she uttered his name and cast a look of both newfound concern and pity toward him.

" _Gabriel?_ "

Reaper grunted and nodded his head in confirmation.

* * *

As he lied down on the examination berth, Reaper watched from the corner of his eye as Mercy rushed throughout the lab, setting up multiple stations and equipment. Coming back to where he was and turning her attention to the machine nearest to him, she focused the arm of the device that had been hanging over her patient, and pointed it at Reaper.

"What's that going to do?" he asked, curious despite his intense pain.

"It's something that will keep your body mass stable in the time it will take for me to pick a sample from your being and devise a cure," she replied. "You may fall unconscious, or just get drowsy, but this _will_ hold you together until I find out what's wrong."

He seemed skeptical. "I haven't had any need for sleep in over five years. This shouldn't be anything I can't endure."

She bit her lip as she fixed the last of the machine's adjustments, easily stifling back the urge to chuckle at his sureness. "It would take me half the night to explain to you why you're wrong. Now hush, and relax your muscles."

She tapped a blue, square-shaped button on the side, and a solid stream of green energy steadily left the end of the robotic device. As the beam touched Reaper's dark and malignant form, his tense posture seemed to slowly mollify until it went still. With a final gasp, his entire body fell limp.

Taking this time to really look him over, Mercy began to examine Reaper from boot to hood. As her blue eyes reached his head, her view became almost completely transfixed on his mask. The white-as-bone, scratch-covered object that had become the unbridled terror sewn into the minds of thousands was an intriguing sight on its own, especially to see it up close. Yet, it was whatever that could lie under it that started to beckon Mercy's interest. Slowly, she stretched her gloved hand out to pull it off. To see what lied underneath. But her effort to perform this action was suddenly halted, and she gasped in surprise as a claw shot up and wrapped its long, steel-edged fingers around her wrist.

Her hand stopped in mid air, caught fast in Reaper's strong, icy grasp. Looking back to his face, she could see he had turned it slightly and was now staring at her.

"Don't... touch... the mask," he sluggishly grumbled to her, clearly showing that the machine was having the desired effect on him. Finally opening his hand, he released Mercy's own, which was promptly pulled back by its owner.

"Vell, I'm going to have to remove it if you want me to see what's underneath," she stated, rubbing her now-sore wrist.

He muttered a small laugh that sounded more like a demented growl from a dying bear. "A fair warning Doc: You won't like what you see."

Mercy placed a hand on her hip. "If you are so sensitive about it, then fine, I will not remove it," she muttered, her expression appearing annoyed before it turned inquisitive. "But... while you're still conscious, may I ask you something?"

"Hrm. Okay," he grumbled. Mercy took a second to take in a deep breath, before speaking.

"Gabriel, why-"

"That's not my name," Reaper suddenly spoke, interrupting her. "Gabriel Reyes died five years ago. Only Reaper remains. It's only proper to refer to others by their real names, you know."

Not being one to argue over matters such as names with patients of a questionable mental state as she worked on them, Mercy ignored the sardonic tone he used in his last sentence and inputted a final directive into her device before looking to him again. "Alright then, _Reaper_ , why have you been hunting down your fellow Overwatch agents?"

"You... _really_ want to know, Doc?" he asked her, clearly even woozier than a few seconds ago as the machine's calibrated function took full effect. A confident expression came over the doctor's face and she nodded. With that, Reaper obliged her in a voice befitting of a drunkard more so than a mass murderer.

"Because... they all left me to suffer..."

Reaper's voice trailed off with his response, and his body refused to move any more than it was at the moment. As he finally, and apparently fully succumbed to the device's refined energy, Mercy thought over his words with a scowl. Then she thought about why she was doing all this for him in the first place.

She wanted to turn Reaper in. She wanted to tell her team of who was currently on her examination table. She wanted nothing more than to just rid herself of this foul guest and never see him again.

Yet, she could not.

Mercy's mind traveled back to the past. Back to the aloof, but well-meaning man named Gabriel Reyes. She knew he was a man whose ambitions were to just be noticed and praised for the goals he put his blood and sweat into accomplishing. He was also quite distanced of others and disagreeable at times, which was something she thought was a flaw their old team could get past, but that would prove in the end to be his, and the entirety of Overwatch's downfall. That fight between him and his fellow soldier Jack Morrison was the utter and final breaking point after it was confirmed a while before then that the latter was to become the first official commander of the organization, and the results of that fight spoke for themselves. She knew deep down that the confrontation was inevitable, but her pacifistic nature prevented her from interfering as well as she could have. Looking back to Reaper's prone form, she let out a small sigh before returning her attention to the work at hand.

Poking around for a few minutes with her gloves and tools, she sifted through Reaper's heavily clothed body, prodding and searching for anything she could extract and inspect. After taking several bits of Reaper's coat and putting them away for examination, finally, she pulled out something she knew she could use from deep within.

It was a piece of the dark slime-like substance that she had previously seen fall off of Reaper when he arrived, but the stuff from before had long-since evaporated. A small, smoky haze appeared to radiate off of it, and with the green beam of energy having kept it stable, Mercy set to work. Quickly but carefully placing it inside of a test tube, she absconded to her workplace at the other end of the lab.

 _Looks like it's going to be another sleepless night..._ she thought to herself dejectedly as she began her first round of analysis and experimentation. And it wasn't just the new work she now had on her plate that prompted the idea, but the crippling fear that her new patient would get up and attempt to slit her throat while she slept.


End file.
